Salaams – I hope you enjoy the poems written below.

 He’s Coming! © 2008 Linda D. Delgado

Two Hours Late

Dinner is cold, now

Door slams with a BANG

Mama whispers, Hurry Miriam!



 In my closet

Inside the toy box. Close the lid

He’s shouting at Mama

Glass and furniture breaking

Mama screams and screams


I cover my ears

My eyes tightly squeezed shut


Afraid to breathe

Heavy footsteps in my room


 Mama’s not crying, now

Footsteps going away

How long to stay hidden?

Silent tears fall

Poor mama. Quiet…wait for mama

 Fitful sleep

 Awake. I’m frightened

Loud voices calling

Miriam? Miriam? Calling my name.

But not Mama’s voice

Heavy footsteps getting closer. He’s coming!

He’s coming!

I scream and scream

Sisters from the masjid look down at me

Where’s my mama?

We’ll take care of you, they say

We’re here to help you.


Like you helped my mama?

She begged for help

You turned your faces away

It’s not my problem

All of you would say.


Go away

I want my mama! I scream

But I know by the look on their faces

Hush Miriam, your Mama’s gone.

He won’t hurt her again.

How can he… I wail. She’s dead!

 I scream and scream.


Who Will Standup For Me? © 2009 Linda D. Delgado


She huddled on the floor

Ahmed glared at her from the open door.

Amina looked at him in abject fear.

She knew better than to cry a tear.


Her heart thudded wildly, her chest filled with pain.

He shouted words cruel and profane.

She lifted her eyes…watched him draw near.

The man she had loved who had once called her dear.



Not one more word from you.

You know very well what I can do.

He snatched the head scarf off her head.

And threw it down on the broken bed.


While I am gone you will not move.

Else more than a head scarf will you lose.

It’s all your fault and I don’t care

Stupid woman you have made me late for prayer.


With that said he stormed out of the house.

Muttering he did not deserve such a spouse.

Amina crawled to the bedside chair

Her busted lip dripping blood everywhere

 I Will Stand Up For You…

 Amina?  Amina! What has happened to you?

Her neighbor Yasmin paused then said I know what to do.

Amina’s quavering voice replied I am okay.

Don’t worry…no need for you to stay.


Nonsense, you are coming with me

I am taking you to a safe place, you will see.

Don’t argue and do not feel dread

My husband Tarek will handle Ahmed.


Yasmin and Amina sat quietly behind the screen

In the prayer room they could not be seen.

Amina’s sisters whispered to her softly

We stand up for you. Stand up with me.


Friday Kutbah ended and Imam said brothers don’t go

I have a matter you all must know

He pointed to Ahmed and said it is time to stop your harm

You cannot hide your wrong behind your charm.


Tarek stood next to the Imam for all to see

I stand up for Sister Amina .Who will stand up  for her with me?

One by one the brothers stood

Brothers in union said we stand up as we should.


 Daddy’s Girl © 2004 Linda D. Delgado

 She stood next to her father’s side gazing with unseeing eyes before the large audience.

They were gathered to celebrate the wedding of her father to his new bride.

Such happy faces; her face drawn and pinched

The pain clearly etched in the downturn of her trembling lips


Still a child but soon to be a woman

Resentful, hurt, an aching sense of abandonment

Not understanding her father’s seeming desertion

Choosing another to be his first love


The marriage vows said

Rings given and accepted

The desperate plea in the child-woman’s eyes

The hard swallow and desolate sigh


Blue eyes turned grey; now brimming with unshed tears

The words spoken “Does anyone object to this marriage?”  

She shudders violently and opens her sweet lips

The words No! No! screamed silently

As the salty tears roll down her soft cheeks.


She looks at me and I shake my head and bite my lips

She mimics me and bites her own to stifle her anguish 


More words and then the pronouncement

Her father beams at the audience; he hugs his new wife

Narry a glance for his daughter weeping silently at his side. 

Down the aisle they all troop; she hunches her shoulders and follows


I rush outside the building and see her standing alone

I enfold her in my arms and kiss her gently

He hasn’t stopped loving you I whisper gently

She pulls herself away and looks defiant


In a low voice she whispers vehemently

He has his wife, his life. Now I will have mine 

He doesn’t see me, hear me, know me

I will not know him.


With head held high she squared her shoulders

Down the long line she walked

Took her place at her father’s side.

Gone was the sweet child, a stranger in her place. 


I stood in the shadows and silently cried.


 Frogiving © 2007 Linda D. Delgado


 What you said hurt me

I responded in anger

You meant to say you were sorry

You didn’t

I meant to forgive you

I didn’t.


What you did was so very wrong

I responded with harsh judgment

You meant to make amends

You didn’t

I meant to be more understanding

I wasn’t.


You meant to call or write

I waited hoping to hear from you

You got busy with life

You forgot

I meant to try again; to call or write

I didn’t.



 You said, “I might try to change and do better.”

I said, “I won’t budge until I see your sorrow.”

You said, “There is always tomorrow.”

I said, “I will forgive on your tomorrow.

Our tomorrow never came

One of us died.


 There is today.

Don’t hold on to yesterday.

Don’t count on tomorrow.

It may not come

You have today

Don’t let love and hope slip away.


 I Thought… I Was Wrong © 2005 Linda D. Delgado

 I thought you were my brother

I thought I was your sister

I am Muslim…

But who are you?


Your goal is an Islamic State

To get there you use death and hate

Is your goal Jannah ?

Or the Hell on Earth you create?


At what price?


You kill me again and again

You seal your fate

I thought you were my brother

I thought I was your sister…

I was wrong


I am every child you blow up

I am every woman you rip to shreds

I am every body chard and limbless

I am every headless man

You hid in a shallow grave


I am Muslim

 You lie to our children

Suicide bombers you make

Never worrying at all

That it is Jannah they forsake


You bomb schools and masjids

You tear families apart

You create hunger, want and need

It is from the Ummah you depart


You celebrate with weapons

Held high above your heads

Muslims weep after your destructive wake

It is Allah you forsake


I thought you were my brother

I thought I was your sister

I thought you were Muslim

I was wrong


You are not my brother

I am not your sister

You are a Killer!

Look in a mirror and you will see


You are Islam’s Enemy


 ‘O Africa  © 2006 Linda D. Delgado 

 Her trees in the Rainforests weep, ‘O Africa

Her grasses of theSavannahbend and sway in protest

Her animals hide in fear of thundering feet

Blades hacking all in their path

Shrill firing of guns announces coming death.


Old grandma stirring the thin gruel in the pot

Adding water to stretch its meager contents

Innocent faces and tiny hands, ‘O Africa

Their empty bowels mirroring empty eyes

Grandma’s gentle smile keeping hope alive.


Where are the mothers and fathers?

‘O Africa, your beloved sons and daughters

Struck down in their prime

Death took them with that dreaded disease

Its name unspoken; denial and lives broken


Wild hordes of militia ravage the lands

‘O Africa your daughters raped by their hands

Bodies savaged. Limbs severed. Many die

Forced to flee to the refugee camps

Barren wastelands with nothing to keep them alive


Still their beautiful voices lift in song, ‘O Africa

Heads held high with determination to survive

Daughters ofAfrica your spirits unconquered

Darfur, Sudan, Rwanda, the Congo

Humanity’s stark reality and irresponsibility.

Note — With other poets contributing, I created a small-size booklet of poems about/for Africa. I had 200 copies printed and sent them in packages of books i mailed to buyers. I sent copies to islamic schools. If you are interested in reading the other poems and viewing the wonderful design created by Sis Iman please visit www.MuslimwritersPublishing.com and click books. Scroll down and click on the booklet’s front cover. The document is in pdf format.


 Come Walk With Me, Come Talk With Me © 2008 Linda D. Delgado

 I stood silently among the crowd.

Uncomfortable, yet unwilling to break free.

Each stranger wore the cloak of sin.

Their foul smell seeping into me.

My eyes darted here and there.


I sensed someone beckoning to me

and my heart yearned when I saw him.

Standing upon a lighted straight and narrow path.

His words wafted on the breeze.

Come walk with me, Come talk with me.


My heart swelled, as my footsteps drew me toward him.

But then, I stumbled, doubted, and turned my face away.

For just a second.

When I looked back my panic rose.

Where is he? Where did the lighted path go?


Instead to my right and to my left.

Only crooked, dark and lonely paths.

I raced down each with evil laughter following me.

Dark, cold, foul smelling places ending in an Abyss.

Panic. Awareness of my loss growing steadily.


He was nowhere to be found.

Not in these places. Only the strangers in that crowd.

Falling to my knees. Tears streaming from my eyes.

All my wrong doings spilling from my lips.

I cried aloud: O Allah where did he go?


Alone now and frightened. Quite descends.

The silence is broken by that gentle breeze.

And then once more I hear him calling to me.

Come walk with me. Come talk with me.

There he is! Beloved Prophet of Islam!


Now I accept him, most praiseworthy guide,

Now, I am a Muslim, now I am free.


My Hero Is Your Hero © 2006 Linda D. Delgado  –American Poet Takes Top Adult Prize in Prophet Mohammad Poetry Contest
The winners of the first annual Praise the Prophet International Poetry Competition were announced online at http://www.islamicpoetry.com. The top prize in the adult category went to Linda Delgado of Tempe, Arizona, for her submission titled My Hero Is Your Hero.

 My Hero Is Your Hero

We sat around the table, my daughter, son and me.

Shall I tell you a new story?

They both chorused, No! Let me. Let me.

Hmm…I responded. Let’s play a guessing game instead.

We’ll take turns describing favorite heroes

And then guess who they could be.


My hero was a great leader and fought bravely in each battle.

My hero washed his clothes with no complaint and was kind to all he met.

What a coincidence I said because my hero did both of these…

Son said his hero was the greatest teacher the world had ever known.

Daughter giggled and said her hero and his wife played racing games.

How amazing I exclaimed because my hero did both of these.


A dark cloud in the sky followed my hero when he was just a boy.

Daughter claimed her hero became a great trader while working for his wife.

Oh, my! This is astounding because my hero did both of these.

Son scratched his head while thinking hard. Not willing to give up.

Daughter twirled her braid and thought aloud who can Mom’s hero be?

I smiled knowingly at both of them and waited patiently.


Son grinned broadly and then announced importantly

My hero never told a lie and taught Muslims how to pray.

Daughter said her hero could top that. Son said there was no way.

My hero talked to Allah’s Angel she declared dramatically.

My goodness I said with wonder because my hero did both of these!

At this point my children protested. You haven’t told us anything!


So I declared my hero left his Sunnah for all mankind to understand.

He recited each of Allah’s Words in our most honored Qur’an.

I know! I know! Both clamored wildly waving hands at me.

Your hero is our hero they exclaimed excitedly.

They had solved the guessing game and were bursting with their glee.

Our hero is the Last Prophet, Muhammad, the most Trusted and Praiseworthy.


Note- This was not the best poem. The first place winner was disqualified because the poem submitted was collaboration with another writer.   I might add that I read other poems in the same category as mine and thought they were superior. As it happened I was in much need of the prize money at that time and I thank Allah for turning the hearts of the judges to the poem I wrote.   As you can see by the meager number of poems I have written over the years, I am not a poetry writer and I can only only write when I am in the grip of a very strong emotion.

Linda D. Delgado is a mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. She graduated from the University of Phoenix and is a retired Arizona DPS Sergeant.  Linda is the author of the award winning children’s 4-book series, Islamic Rose Books, two non-fiction books: Halal Food, Fun and Laughter and A Muslim’s Guide to Publishing and Marketing, and the author of two books in the Rainey Walker Mystery Series: Catch Me If You Dare and Gotcha!  Linda is also the co-author of the Grandma & Hijab-Ez Family Activity Book, creator of the Grandma & Hijab Ez comic strip series and the owner-publisher of Muslim Writers Publishing: a traditional Muslim publishing house with a focus on publishing Islamic fiction books for older youth and teens  www.MuslimWritersPublishing.com and www.widad-lld.com and www.raineywalkerseries.wordpress.com and www.islamicfictionbooks.com


One Response to Poetry

  1. Safia says:

    I have always loved the poem-Come talk with me Come walk with me.I think of it from time to time.Very nice and heart touching it is.And My Hero is your hero,is great!

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